A Study of Inheritance
by Lunahras
Summary: The Starks are a family steeped in crime and Jarvis is a shadow at Tony Stark's feet, always following, a silent wraith to do his bidding. Jarvis is his child, and he is so much more.


please note, this is an entirely self-indulgent crime au, dont take it too seriously

Jarvis hadn't always been around.

He wasn't even _supposed_ to be around.

After all, no one wants their dirty laundry aired where anyone can see it.

But Anthony Stark had always been on the far side of eccentric. He was nothing like his father. The younger Stark spat on tradition and welcomed controversy with open arms. He loved playing the balancing game with the public eye. Both of those.

The man attracted scandals like flies to honey, but no one could ever pin anything on him. His front was impeccable, no matter how messily he liked to play with his food sometimes. A shark with pristine white teeth.

But when the boy, no older than eleven at the time, had tricked his way through to Tony and announced himself as his child-

Well.

Most people had expected him to simply brush off yet another potential stain in his perfect white canvas. Take out the trash and continue his life without remorse.

Instead, he'd taken the boy in, given him a new name, and kept him by his side.

Admittedly, it had been a game at first on Tony's part. See how long the runt could survive while constantly standing in point blank range of every one of his enemies. But, well.

Things hadn't gone quite like that.

Any responsibility he'd been burdened with had been wordlessly taken and dealt with in an increasingly effective manner. Before he knew it, he'd earned the man's respect – and eventual affection, but that was a subject better left to the closed doors of the Stark residence.

So Jarvis had stuck around. One of the man's many bastard children, now his personal and most trusted assistant.

He was a shadow at Stark's feet, always following, a silent wraith to do his bidding. Always knowing exactly when he was needed and to what measure. It was uncanny, his almost robotic efficiency borderline inhuman.

Sharp, cold eyes seemed perpetually aware of their surroundings as they somehow managed to survey an entire weapons trafficking ring and systematically delete every fault in the existing system. And all the while, Jarvis showed not a single fault of his own, always efficient, always present, always aware.

Never off-guard.

Those who had attempted to use him, to take him, to hurt him, had been taken out quickly and cleanly and removed without much fuss. After all, it wouldn't do for Mr. Stark to worry about such unimportant matters

Slowly but surely, Jarvis took on more and more of Stark's work. As he aged he became more well-respected, more influential by his own name rather than his father's. His origins became obscure, through no small influence of his own, and his achievements and unflappable attitude shone at the forefront, protected by an equally immaculate facade to present to the masses.

Jarvis was a gentleman, well put together, cultured and always tastefully clad. To many he seemed to have more class than his sire. But of course, it was all a cultivated image. Where Stark reveled in a razor's edge of adventurous escapades and ethical cleanliness, Jarvis was steeped in geniality and politeness, a sort of genuine sincerity that came from the deepest pits of deceit and duplicity. Where Tony had a shiny silver tongue, Jarvis had a razor sharp mind. Not that he couldn't learn from his mentor, though.

"You look lovely today, madam." A bow, a deceptively genial smile.

Another fish caught in the net.

The more strings he had to pull, of course, the more liberties he took. He'd started looking for other half-siblings at age sixteen and Tony had indulged him with an air of patronizing amusement to hide the cunning eagle eyes with which he always watched his charge.

Well, taking one illegitimate child into the fold hadn't gone too terribly, he couldn't imagine another few could do too much. And, yes, Jarvis needed people on his side, as many as he could get. Tony had plans, so many plans, and he needed the boy alive for them.

So Jarvis gathered those he could find, all of which had the same predisposition to this bizarrely comforting family business as him. They were sharp and powerful and controlled, a wildness that never quite escaped their grasp. Self-tamed and self-sustained, natural forces going impossibly unnoticed.

And they stuck by him through thick and thin, through this life that offered them nothing but pain and grief. They made their home with him in this nest of vipers, with no protests from Mr. Stark.

And then, one day, Tony Stark would disappear of his own volition, having deemed his work done. He would give Jarvis one last smile.

"Give 'em hell, J."

And vanish.

And Jarvis. Jarvis would no longer stand back as a shadow. No, he would sit at the head of table with no comment or explanation, whether it be asked or demanded.

And beside him would stand Ultron, smirking savagely, daring anyone to protest Jarvis' claim on this throne of corpses, and Friday, smiling gently as she held a gun to an equally infuriated and terrified man's head, and Karen behind him, guarding the only exit with a shy flutter of her lashes.

"Any questions?"

His claim would go undisputed.

0 0 0

There is chaos for years after that. Accusations upon accusations, attempts at his life that fail in increasingly creative ways. Countless theories for his father's disappearance, each more incriminating than the last. Disagreements and disputes and talks of a power imbalance. Claims of worthiness and legitimacy are brought to life and immediately silenced.

Of course, nothing compares to the chaos that comes when Tony shows up for Vision's birth.


End file.
